


Won't Forget These Days

by Direttissima



Category: Motorcycling RPF, Motorsport RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-24
Updated: 2021-03-09
Packaged: 2021-03-17 02:36:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28966947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Direttissima/pseuds/Direttissima
Summary: The MotoGP oneshots I guess. Just so they have a home from now on. Pairings and ratings in titles!
Relationships: Dani Pedrosa/Fabio Quartararo, Jorge Lorenzo/Dani Pedrosa, Marc Marquez/Dani Pedrosa, Marc Marquez/Jorge Lorenzo (/Dani Pedrosa), Marc Marquez/Valentino Rossi
Comments: 26
Kudos: 27





	1. Valencia - Marc/Dani [T]

**Author's Note:**

> Not real and never happened, none of it.

The waves hit the shore steadily, the sound reminding him of Malaysia. It’s nothing like that though, because it’s barely ten degrees and there’s an industrial harbor to their right, but it’s dark so it’s not visible. He prefers to pretend it’s not there for now.

And sand feels the same, whether it’s the Pacific or the Mediterranean. It’s going to get everywhere. Always does.

“You ran away from the party,” he states, looking over the black horizon.

“Yup.” The ‘p’ sure pops. No regret in his voice.

“From your own party.”

“Yup.”

“To sit here with me. Some old guy you’ll never have to see again.”

You’re unbelievable.

“You’re not that old and don’t say that. I will hate not seeing you.”

“So, you decided to come up here with me instead of celebrating your title.”

“I guess. It seemed like the last chance.”

Last chance. Has there ever been one?

Dani closes his eyes as he feels a hand cover up his own. “Don’t,” he whispers, under his breath.

I don’t have the self-restraint for this anymore.

“Remember Malaysia?”

“We said it never happened, Marc.”

“But it did. And you said when we retire. Not even if, you said when.”

“You’re not retiring.”

“Well, if that’s what I need to do…”

Dani opens his eyes and then snatches the phone from Marc as the display lights up.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

“Calling Alberto and tell him I quit?”

“You wouldn`t.”

“Try me?”

Dani would do many things; challenging Marc isn’t one of them.

“You want me so much?”

“I haven’t wanted anything else for six years.”

Dani sighs and lets his back fall onto the sand, Marc mirroring the move. Marc’s phone is in the sand now and he takes his hand, laces their fingers and it’s the shittiest most romantic something Dani has ever done – except Malaysia.

“I’m old,” Dani mutters, staring into the night sky.

Next to him, Marc laughs softly.

“Only on paper.”

“You know this could blow your career?”

“I don’t think so. They wouldn’t dare. And I wasn’t planning on posting a couple pic on Instagram tomorrow morning.”

“Now I’m hurt,” Dani mocks and then yelps when Marc hits his shoulder. “Domestic abuse, tsk. We’ve barely started and you’re hitting me.”

“You like it when I’m rough.”

Dani’s throat goes dry and he’s glad it’s dark so Marc can’t see his face light up in bright pink.

I do. And you remember. And we still said we wouldn’t talk about it.

“Can you get over your fear already? It’s freezing and I think it’s starting to drizzle.”

Marc squeezes his hand.

Can I? It’s scary, doing this without the alcohol we had then. And you’ll be scary forever because you’re you and you’re not some girl or some guy, you’re Marc and I know how it feels to want this for six years and I also know how fucking much it hurts when you want something for a long time and then don’t get it. But if I get you and lose you again… then I’ll die.

“Come on, old man. Let’s go.”

“Where to?” You’re sharing your shiny motorhome with your brother, I swear that’s not happening and I’m wall to wall with Bautista and that’s not happening either.

“I booked a hotel. For Mister Ramal. It’s down the street.”

For the first time, Marc sounds insecure. Dani’s heart does a flip though.

You booked a hotel?

“You planned this?”

“I dreamed about this.” Dani hears the pout in Marc’s voice.

His heart is still jumpy, and the drizzle intensifies into proper rain and it’s actually really damned cold and they risk pneumonia if they don’t get away from here.

“Okay,” he says, getting to his feet slowly and pulling Marc up with him, “but it better be five stars.”

Marc squeezes his hand and laughs, that crazy sound that Dani will miss so much from now on. Or maybe not as often as he thought.

“I dreamed about this, too,” he says after a while, head dropping against Marc’s shoulder. “Just so you know.”


	2. Rocco's Ranch - Fabio/Dani [E]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just because. It's been sitting on my drive for a bit because I wasn't sure who to pair Fabio with this time around, but they were training together so it fits. (It's still so difficult to get into motogp properly right now *sighs*. If there's anything you'd want to read, feel free to let me know! I'm a bit blank on these guys.)

His head hits the concrete wall, and he doesn’t even care, not with the fingers that are sliding into his pants and the mouth that’s sucking a bruise on the side of his neck. It doesn’t matter that he’s sweaty and that sand is getting everywhere, he just cares about that hand that’s rubbing over his cock and that knows exactly how fast he wants this, and he cares about the smooth skin under his fingertips, moist with sweat much like his own, with muscles flexing beneath.

Their back protectors are on the floor and his shirt will be gross because there’s mud and it doesn’t matter because he licks a line along a sharp jawbone now, kisses chafed lips. Tastes mint and blood, and he moans as his pants slide down to his knees.

“More,” he says, sound muffled as he speaks against skin, his fingernails digging into those muscles now to pull, to get friction and closeness and everything.

It fits them, their image, their profession that they’re here, where it smells like gasoline and dirt, where they’re shielded from nosy views just by the wall of a shed and where the sounds of engines almost drown their voices.

He gets what he asks for, solid weight, heavier than expected, pressing against him and he’s bold now, fingers under the waistband of those track pants, getting them down a far enough that his hands can slide into the boxers and cup those ass cheeks, a beautiful moan the prize for his effort.

The other fingers have more experience than his own, greedily fumbling between them until both their cocks are out, rubbing together in their hold and he stops the kissing, leans against his forehead, eyes darting down.

It’s an image like no other, actually seeing that happening. He barely dared dreaming about this. Only with a bad conscience because it meant more than just innocent pining about someone from the grid. And now it’s happening though maybe it doesn't count when he's retired?

“This is such a bad idea.”

“I _know_.”

Potentially, it’s going to ruin both of them but who’d think that far right now, where the hand between them moves faster and he reaches and touches and then their fingers are laced, sliding over their cocks together. He has to kiss him again just to drown his own mewling.

Out of sheer competitiveness he’d have wanted to be able to hold out longer, but maybe it’s the lack of experience that makes him the first to keen, hot liquid over their fingers and he squeezes his eyes shut too late, the image will be burnt to his memory for the rest of his life.

“Oh, fuck,” he groans and then at least he’s not first by miles, more sticky liquid, another groan and then they’re standing there, foreheads still touching, fingers filthy and both panting for air and the awkwardness creeps in.

“I’m sorry.”

He doesn’t understand.

“Why’d you be sorry?”

“For. I don’t know.”

“If you say corrupting me, I’m punching you.”

At least, there’s a small chuckle now.

With a sigh, he wipes the mess from his fingers into his boxers. The clothes all go into the washer anyway, mud having made it’s way everywhere.

“So.” He pulls up his pants. Waits for a reaction, while another set of pants is adjusted and he’s not even looked up.

Neither of them has.

“I guess. That’s it.” A shrug.

He raises his head, feels daring all over sudden. “Doesn’t have to.”

Confused eyes meet his and woah, the slight pink hue high on those cheeks, the messy hair.

“What do you mean?”

“Doesn’t have to be it,” he clarifies.

“Right.” Insecurity. Finality.

“Right.” He wriggles out from where he was tripped between another body and the wall and picks up his protector. “See you around.”

The sadness kicks in, a bit unexpected. Regret, yeah, he knew that would happen. Actual sadness is a bit. Cliché and all.

“Fabio, there you are.” Tom. _Right._ He almost forgot he’s not even here alone. “You look like you saw a ghost.”

“It’s nothing.” He shakes his head, meets Tom’s eyes and forces himself to smile. “Going home?”

“Yeah, everything’s loaded up. As soon as you get out of those clothes we can go.”

Home it is.


	3. According to Plan - Marc/Vale [E]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Coping mechanisms, I got them all...

He grins to himself when he picks up the headlines the next day. Everything turns out exactly as predicted, the media picking up the exact half-sentence he wanted them to pick up. ‘I can’t forgive him.’ It almost makes him laugh out loud.

* * *

“Really?” Uccio holds up the morning paper when they meet in the kitchen. “Again?”

Vale shrugs. “Why not?”

“Can’t you just tell him you like him and be done with it?”

“No.” Valentino shakes his head determinedly. “Of course not. He’s a guy. And I hate him.”

* * *

 _“Asshole.”_ The first text reads, coming in around noon and Vale feels a familiar, comfortable warmth spread through his body. _It worked!_

 _“I told you I didn’t do that. And I said I was sorry anyway. And apologized for Argentina. What else now?”_ Vale reads the message and smiles widely.

_“Oh. Did you apologize? I am old. Maybe I don’t remember too well.”_

* * *

“I hate you.” His head hits the wall as he’s pushed with more force than expected, dark brown eyes piercing him. “You’re such a petty bitch.”

“Your bitch,” Vale replies with a smirk and waits, heart thundering, wrists pinned against the concrete.

Marc keeps staring at him, furiously, hungrily. Vale’s blood got the hint and assembled in his lap and he’s drooling, licking his lips, anticipation strong with this.

“What do you want from me?” He’s in his space, lips almost touching, and Vale’s heart skips a beat.

“Show me you’re sorry again,” he hisses, before attacking him. Assaulting.

They’ve done this so many times and he never ever gets tired of it. How could it, with Marc mewling into his mouth, pressed so close Vale can feel the outline of his cock through both their jeans, rubbing against his own erection. The taste of blood lingers in his mouth as he’s probably broken some skin on those soft lips and Marc’s grip on his wrists is gone, a brief look confirming his hands are folded behind his back already. Good boy, Vale thinks to himself, smirking into the kiss and his hands wander under Marc’s shirt, pull it off, nails scraping down the skin on his back sharp enough to draw more blood.

Marc whimpers into the kiss and Vale decides it’s enough, one hand gripping his hair and pushing him down while he opens his zipper with the other. There’s no hesitation in Marc’s movements, no holding back when he swallows him down and Vale is glad he has the wall to support him.

“Are you sorry?” He asks, his voice slowly giving in to the lack of breath and his legs shaking.

Marc looks up at him, lips looking obscene like this, his eyes dilated and he hums, sending jolts of pleasure through Vale’s body. When he blinks at him, long lashes touching his cheeks, Vale’s gone, losing it. He comes down Marc’s throat without warning, Marc coughing and struggling, tears on his cheeks as Vale doesn’t loosen the grip in Marc’s hair and forces him to take it all.

When he finally lets him slide off, Marc is panting heavily, chest heaving and his cheeks are so flushed. He looks completely wrecked and then turns his head up from where he’s still kneeling, eyes pleading with Valentino’s.

“Good boy,” Vale says with a smile, a genuine, soft smile he hopes, at least it’s what he’s aiming for, before he crouches down and cups Marc’s face, his thumb wiping away a tear. “You’ve been so good for me.”

Marc squeezes his eyes shut and whimpers.

They found out years ago what it does to him, hearing those words. Valentino barely needs to press against the bulge in his pants before he’s shuddering and moaning, certainly ruining his pants.

“Thank you.” Vale kisses his forehead and then waits for Marc’s breathing to calm down.

“Come on, lets put your clothes in the washer.” He pulls him to his feet when he thinks it’s been a long enough break and Marc accepts his hand, but winces when he pulls.

A flash of panic rushes through Vale’s veins.

“Your arm?”

Marc shakes his head and leans against his side, letting Vale support his weight. “No. Just pins and needles. I don’t break that easily.”

“That an invitation to try?” Vale raises an eyebrow.

Marc squeezes his hand at the words. “Maybe.” And Vale doesn’t have to look, he hears the smile in his voice.

* * *

Alex looks at the fingerprint-shaped bruises on the side of Marc's neck and shakes his head.

“Seriously? Again?”

Marc shrugs. “Was good.”

His brother lets out a long-suffering sigh.

“Can’t you just tell each other you’re in love and be a cute couple finally?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I still feel so lost in this fandom at times. I'll just keep spamming it until I find my way I guess :P


	4. About Time - Jorge/Dani [T/M (slightly, for vocabulary)]

“Dani, your boyfriend is going crazy.”

“He’s NOT my boyfriend.”

“Yeah, he so is.”

“No, he’s not.”

“I literally walked in on you guys.”

“We agreed that nobody ever mentions that night ever again.”

“He had a broken spine at the time and you- “

“And I was just being nice.”

“You’ve never been that nice to me.”

“Oh, you’d have wanted a blowjob?”

“Dani!! You can’t say shit like that.”

“Yeah, so you can and I can’t? Spill, you wanted one?”

“I might not have denied.”

“Right.”

“You’re nice to look at.”

“Now that’s a compliment.”

“Sorry. Back to your boyfriend.”

“Jorge Lorenzo is not my boyfriend.”

“Are you serious though? It didn’t look like a one-off.”

“It was about a dozen_off, if you absolutely have to know.”

“Wait, so is that like enemies with benefits?”

“I don’t know… is that what you and Vale call your arrangement?”

“We do not- Dani, you’re mean.”

“I learned from the best.”

“Okay. But seriously. The singing was cute. At least a little. But have you looked at his Instagram?”

“You know that I hate social media.”

“I know that you’re old.”

“And I know you’re an asshole.”

“Dani, okay, I’m sorry. But you have to look. He eats golden steaks and drives one Lamborghini after the other and he’s literally hanging out with sheiks and saying dura la vita.”

“That’s… okay. I agree. That’s a little much. Even for Jorge.”

“Right? He’s going crazy. You need to do something.”

“Okay, you’re totally right that he is off, but you’re wrong when you think I can do anything about it. Why would he listen to me?”

“Seriously?”

“What?”

“He loves you.”

Dani snorts and almost drops his phone.

“Marc. No.”

“I’m right. And deep down, you know it. And you could fix whatever’s wrong with him because I’m pretty sure that your dozen-off has something to do with all of this.”

“Yeah. I’m not flying to Dubai.”

“He posted from Lugano the past three days.”

“I hate you.”

“No. You really don’t.”

Dani stares at the screen fondly. “True. I really don’t. You’re like the son I never had.”

“Ew. Weird.” Marc is poking his tongue out.

Their facetime call ends soon after and Dani’s beaming the way he always does after they’ve had some time for their usual banter. He misses his teammate like he never expected to because some stupid part of him never realized how much joy Marc managed to bring into his world.

But all the talk about Lorenzo? Dani’s stomach is a bit unsettled. There’d been a hookup in November, before the idiot flew to Dubai. Marc couldn’t know about that one and Dani thought it was just random. Meaningless. The way they always were, fueled by mutual search for dominance and power, full of biting and scratching and with the taste of blood prevalent in each kiss. More wrestling than fucking.

Dani never allowed himself to think about the encounters, not before, not after. And Marc pushing it right into his face is unnerving and uncomfortable and he doesn’t really want to explore that lingering wistfulness and the nagging worries. Because they don’t mean anything, because they’re not supposed to mean anything.

Still, when he’s ready to go to sleep, he thinks it won’t hurt to stray once and he allows himself to open his phone, scrolling through Jorge’s Instagram.

It’s… well, Marc wasn’t exaggerating.

And since Dani is too far down the rabbit hole, he lets his thoughts revisit that night. In Barcelona.

“You could come to my place for a change.” Jorge, propped up on his side, fingers running over Dani’s chest.

Dani chuckled at the words, shook his head. “Nah. Not mixing this with our real lives, right?”

“Would it still matter when we’re both retired?” Jorge’s eyes were strange. Different. Dani can’t recall why, but he remembers it felt off.

“Right.” He’d said, evasive, as always. And then leaned in for a kiss and started round two. And he’d left before breakfast the next morning, which he’d usually do if he stayed overnight at all, and so maybe that flicker of disappointment wasn’t because Jorge was hoping for round three?

_Would you want that? Would you want me in your house and at your breakfast table?_

Dani remembers the stories about Jorge and Ricky and how he never thought Jorge could want anything like that ever again.

_And what do I want?_

The truth is that Dani, right from the start, right from that very dirty blowjob in a public restroom in Cheste all these years ago, has been way too scared to be rejected to ever allow himself a single thought in this direction. His brain had automatically decided that Jorge wouldn’t want anything serious and therefore he’d be overjoyed with any little crumb he could get.

Trust Marc to make him have an epiphany about his entire love life at two am in the middle of January. Dani curses and gets back out of bed, ending up at his kitchen counter with a bottle of gin.

And his phone.

And after looking at one too many photos of podiums they’d shared, he does what nobody should do when it’s late and they’re alone and drunk.

_‘What if it doesn’t matter once we’re retired? What if it never would have mattered?’_

The message is sent, but not read. And Dani finishes his gin and leaves the phone in the kitchen, shaking his head as he sways back to bed.

_I hate you Marquez. I really do._

Of course, he wakes up with somewhat of a headache. The memories come back slowly while he’s under the shower and he almost trips when he realizes that he actually sent that message. He’s almost falling down the stairs, dropping all over the floor and almost losing the towel that’s loosely wrapped around his hips.

Two missed calls from Jorge. And a message.

_'Okay. You can’t just write that and then ghost me. I’m coming over.'_

Dani’s heart jumps wildly.

_You. You waited for that message, didn’t you? All these years that’s what you wanted?_

He checks the timestamp and does the math. If Jorge really left after he wrote it then he should be there - now.

Dani shudders as a cold wave washes down his back. He’s not ready. After all, he’s not Marc, he doesn’t jump head-first into everything at the first opportunity. When he panics and texts Marc, all he gets is laughing emoji at first and he’s fuming and then his phone buzzes again.

' _Head-first? You’ve been overthinking that for a decade, Pedrosa.'_

When he realizes that the little bastard isn’t even wrong, he’s laughing maniacally. And only stops when the doorbell rings. And since this is apparently his life now and he can’t make things any worse, Dani’s opening his front door only clad in a towel and Jorge’s bag hits the floor with a thud as he stares at him, gaping like a fish.

“About time you show up, Lorenzo.”

He texts Marc a thank you note, late that night, when Jorge’s curled up in Dani’s bed and snoring peacefully. And he’s ordered a friend to deliver them breakfast the next morning. And he’s maybe not even grumpy. Or only a little grumpy, because it’s taken him so long. But yeah, it feels pretty right, having that infuriating idiot staying with him.

_I could get used to this_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Sorry it took a week longer than planned ♥)


	5. Distractions - Marc/Jorge(/Dani), [M]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As ordered, I guess? Hope you enjoy!

“Oh, look, Dani’s going out.” Jorge points at the screen and Marc lifts his eyes from his plate, looking at the KTM growling down pit lane.

It hurts. Plain as that. “Yeah,” he mutters, sighs. Shoves the plate away on the coffee table as he doesn’t feel like finishing it anymore.

“Sorry.” Jorge’s arm snakes around his shoulders and he’s pulled against Jorge’s side, his head easily resting against him and his body sagging.

_I just don’t want this anymore. I hate watching and not even being there._

“Watching this wasn’t a good idea, was it?” Jorge turns the TV off and pulls him into his lap properly, Marc hiding his face in the crook of Jorge’s neck.

“We should watch him though. He’d watch us, too.”

“Maybe.” Jorge rubs his back lazily. “It’s not the same though, being injured for some weeks or what you’re going through. Dani and I… we’ve been out, and Dani sure had his scares and scars. But seriously, neither of us ever sat out an entire season. We couldn’t imagine. It’s okay that you’re sulking.”

“I don’t even want to sulk, but it hurts so much to see the bikes.” Marc curls up closer while Jorge’s hands move under his shirt, hot against his already sweaty skin.

“Don’t worry. Let me take your mind off it for a bit?” Jorge’s hands slide lower, into Marc’s shorts, cupping his bare ass and he hums approvingly.

“Good plan.”

“Of course. I always have good plans.”

Marc would fight Jorge on this – if it wasn’t accurate. Everything somehow can be traced back to a plan Jorge made. Their entire triangular relationship is something that Jorge meticulously arranged over several years, first dating Dani, slowly seducing Marc, getting Marc and Dani into his bed at the same time. Marc hadn’t even known he liked boys before, but Jorge saw something, and it turned out grand. He wonders if Vale is ever aware of how close to home he actually hit in 2015.

And this, a vacation in some luxury villa in the Maledives. It’s not a bad plan either and of course, Jorge planned and arranged, including finding appropriate medical care for Marc’s rehab and it’s good, having sun and the pool and just something different. Watching the shake off was the only mistake. Though he misses Dani around dearly and he’d hoped that instead of hurting about the bikes, they could have enjoyed seeing their tiny partner on the big screen.

“Let me take it off, okay?” Jorge’s pulling on his shirt and he raises his arms effortlessly and it still sparks joy in fact, being able to do this. On his own. For the longest time, Dani and Jorge, or Alex if he was home, would have had to help. He smiles and Jorge kisses his nose when the fabric is tossed.

“You look tempting,” Jorge mutters, kissing a line along Marc’s collarbone and he lets himself sag back against the couch, shivering under Jorge’s ministrations, lazily pulling on Jorge’s collar until his shirt is gone, too.

“Let me kiss you,” Marc pulls on Jorge’s hair until Jorge is in his lap, roles switched to earlier and Jorge tastes like coconut and strawberry when Marc licks into his mouth, greedy for more. His nails scrape down Jorge’s spine before he can pull him closer, hands on his ass, their crotches rubbing against each other and both of them moaning happily.

Marc’s noises turn into disappointment though when Jorge pulls back.

“Wait,” Jorge mutters breathlessly, reaching for something, while Marc’s eyes are glued to his lips, coated in their saliva, glistening.

“Want to rile up Dani a little?”

Jorge is holding his phone and Marc looks back and forth between the sheer glint of evil in Jorge’s eyes and the camera and then deliberately licks his bottom lip and nods.

Not hesitating, Jorge kisses him again and Marc hears the camera click a few times and then Jorge’s fighting with their shorts and yeah, Marc can’t wait until he finally has his fingers around them and the camera clicks a few more times before the phone drops and Jorge spits into his hand.

It’s too late when Marc realizes that it’s not a leather couch and that it’s going to be embarrassing at some point, as housekeeping will know what they were up to, but they’re already too close to see reason and he’s staring at Jorge's hand, gripping both of them easily, mesmerized, almost blacking out when Jorge drags both of them over the edge.

“Ew,” Jorge mutters after a while, the stickiness unbearable.

“Shower.” Marc yawns and pushes at him to get up.

“Yeah, just wait a second.” Marc watches over Jorge’s shoulder as he selects a few pictures and he freezes when Jorge actually presses send.

“You… you’re sure you send them to Dani right?”

_Imagine you accidentally sent them to Vale._

Marc shudders.

“Yeah, look at this? They went to Dani. All okay.”

“You’re evil though.” Marc chuckles.

“That’s why both of you love me.” Jorge shrugs and pulls him along to the bathroom and once again Marc would fight him about that – if it wasn’t true.

…

Siting in his garage in Qatar, sweat running down his neck, Dani opens his phone, glancing at the notifications.

_Aww, Jorge. And probably Marc?_

He opens it eagerly, expecting some cute encouragement. Instead, he’s greeted by Marc’s face in a familiar, very obvious state of arousal, plenty of chest to see as well. And yeah, trust Jorge to have taken pics from below their navels, too, and Dani’s never tossed a phone to the floor that quickly.

_You will pay for that. Both of you._

“You okay, Dani? You look like you saw a ghost?”

“I’m fine,” he croaks, pulling up the zipper of his leathers rapidly, before he gives away the real issue here. “I- I should go back out.”

It’s his worst lap so far, his mind deep in the gutter. And oh, he’ll really make both of them pay for that.


	6. Told you so! - Dani/Jorge/Marc [M]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're interrupting the scheduled updates for this... because the group chat is a terrible enabler :P   
> Consider this a bit of an afterthought to the last, a lot of crack and my personal note to coping with Jorge the influencer ;) Hope you'll have as much fun with it as I did!

“Why are you pouting?” Marc slides into the armchair next to him and eyes him curiously and Jorge frowns even more before pointing to his phone.

“I’m not allowed to use it.”

“Again?” Marc is cackling and Jorge is tempted to attack him but then he feels too down to follow through.

“Yeah.” Instead, he just sighs and wistfully looks at the smartphone, resting forlorn on the dining room table.

“What for though? The shitposts you made after testing?”

Jorge nods. “Remember when after… well.” Marc winces and lets out a painful whine and yeah, Jorge remembers, too, how Dani had come home and properly taking revenge on both of them for sending him nudes straight to the garage. And getting off without him and his permission. While Marc is blushing across from him, Jorge is still feeling the bruises too well.

“I had to come talk to him alone.”

“Yeah, I remember.” The pang of jealousy. Obviously. Jorge understands though, it’s rare that Dani asks to be with one of them alone and he feels the same when it’s with Marc. Though he swears there was nothing remotely enviable about what Dani had done to him with his belts in that room.

“Oh.” Marc’s voice is full of sympathy. “Like when I re-broke my arm, huh?”

 _Oh._ Jorge remembers that. Dani fuming, worried, crazy with pain and anger about Marc’s stupidity. “Uh, yes, like that I guess.”

“Aw, and now you’re not allowed to post anything?” Marc looks at the smartphone as if he’s intrigued. Plotting. Jorge doesn’t like it, his ass still hurts enough as it is.

“I can post with his permission,” he says eventually, feeling his cheeks turn pink at the words. A grown man needing his boyfriend’s permission to use his phone. But Dani can be threatening and well, he won’t have to explain that to Marc of all people.

“And did you ask?”

“I tried,” he admits, because since there’s more testing, he’d have loved to share some thoughts and he’d also have wanted to share a picture of their hotel room (not revealing it’s “theirs” obviously) but this way, everybody will only be suspicious where he disappeared to.

Marc nods thoughtfully. “But he didn’t let you?”

“Nope. He gave me that face.” They’ve named all of Dani’s faces. He has a few of them.

“Which one?”

“Grumpy cat? The press conference version.” The image makes Jorge shudder. It’s one of the faces that mean nothing good for either of them.

“Oh.” Marc winces again. “You poor thing.”

And then, with the elegance and the fierceness of a cat, Marc is sliding from his armchair into Jorge’s, hands cupping his face and whispers straight into his ear. “Need me to distract you from your phone for a bit?”

So, Jorge’s crotch says yes. Jorge’s ass is shaking with fear. And Jorge’s brain is screaming for him to run away. “Fuck you, he’ll only take it away for longer. And take that stupid belt out again.”

“He won’t know if we don’t send pictures,” Marc purrs into his ear. “And since we’re not allowed to send pictures in the first place… what’s the worst thing that could happen?”

In Jorge’s defense, Marc is persuasive and looks like a Greek God and it’s really not his fault, this time it’s really, really not, that he can’t resist and lets Marc slide down between his knees, lets him open his pants… and swallows him down in one go. And of course he’s not stopping until he’s completely spent, because it’s not like he’s particularly coherent or conscious when Marc does that shit.

Always getting him in trouble, the damned enabler.

He does come back to his senses with a jolt of panic going through his veins though, but Marc’s kneeling there, licking his lip like the cat who got the scream (Jorge likes comparing him to felines, it’s strangely fitting…) and then winks.

“He won’t know, they’re testing for another hour or so.”

Jorge releases a whoosh of air, realizing that Marc is absolutely right about the time, until he thinks he feels some sort of presence and then realizes that Marc’s eyes have widened comically as he stares straight through the room.

Jorge refuses to crane his neck and shrinks into the cushion, anticipating the worst.

“He won’t know what?” Dani’s voice, like thunder rolling through the room and Jorge’s on his knees with Marc in a second, fumbling with his zipper in total panic mode.

“Dani… why are you back?” Marc is gaping, literally gaping.

“Red flag. Crutchlow the idiot crashed and spread oil and they called it a day.”

 _Fucking Crashlow. All his fault. Again._ And Jorge told them so, he really did.


End file.
